you asked me yesterday.

Yet do not think that I am turning it all to game. I could not do so
with any real earnest sentiment ... I never could ... and now least,
and with my own sister whom I love so. One may smile to oneself and
yet wish another well--and so I smile to _you_--and it is all safe
with you I know. He is a second or third cousin of ours and has golden
opinions from all his friends and fellow-officers--and for the rest,
most of these men are like one another.... I never could see the
difference between fuller's earth and common clay, among them all.

What do you think he has said since--to _her_ too?--'I always
persevere about everything. Once I began to write a farce--which they
told me was as bad as could be. Well!--I persevered!--_I finished
it_.' Perfectly unconscious, both he and she were of there being
anything mal a propos in _that_--and no kind of harm was meant,--only
it expresses the man.

Dearest--it had better be Thursday I think--_our_ day! I was showing
to-day your father's drawings,--and my brothers, and Arabel besides,
admired them very much on the right grounds. Say how you are. You did
not seem to me to answer frankly this time, and I was more than half
uneasy when you went away. Take exercise, dear, dearest ... think of
me enough for it,--and do not hurry 'Luria.' May God bless you!

Your own

_Ba._

_R.B. to E.B.B._

Sunday Evening.
[Post-mark, January 26, 1846.]

I will not try and write much to-night, dearest, for my head gives a
little warning--and I have so much to think of!--spite of my penholder
being kept back from me after all! Now, ought I to have asked for it?
Or did I not seem grateful enough at the promise? This last would be a
characteristic reason, seeing that I reproached myself with feeling
_too_ grateful for the 'special symbol'--the 'essential meaning' of
which was already in my soul. Well then, I will--I do pray for
it--next time; and I will keep it for that one yesterday and all its
memories--and it shall bear witness against me, if, on the Siren's
isle, I grow forgetful of Wimpole Street. And when is 'next time' to
be--Wednesday or Thursday? When I look back on the strangely steady
widening of my horizon--how no least interruption has occurred to
visits or letters--oh, care _you_, sweet-